


Ghosting

by starrelia (orphan_account)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Buried Alive, Drowning, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sibling Incest, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-10-07 21:43:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10370094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/starrelia
Summary: To suffer is, to some, to develop as a person. To suffer is to grow stronger and fight through life.In Hanzo's case, to suffer through strange and unfamiliar environments is to learn.





	1. Drown

**Author's Note:**

> _Fly awake, I sleep awake._  
>  Title from "Ghosting" by Mother Mother. That line of lyric above is from "Sleep Awake" by Mother Mother.
> 
> "Slowly, gently, this is how a life is taken." - quote from Darkest Dungeon.

He is drowning. Surely, clearly, he is drowning; water surrounds him, pushes down on him and makes his hair sway and flow around him. His eyes burning, mouth open and his lungs fill and fail to work… clearly, he is drowning, arms extending outwards and eyes staring up into the endlessly stretching surface as he waits for something.

His legs do not co-operate, his arms merely reach out and grasp at nothing, and his entire body sinks further and further into the bottom. The world around him blurs and flows, his eyes refusing to see and focus – and, surely, Hanzo is dying.

No one comes to his aid, and Hanzo’s entire body goes lax when he hits the bottom. As though he is sleeping, his body lays down flat onto the ground yet his hair sways. His eyes are wide open, his nose burns, and still his lung fills and fills and fails to function.

Life swims around him, passing by his exposed skin and dragging tails and scales over. He stares through them, seeing only blackness where there should be colours, vibrant life. Slowly, gently… isn’t this how a life is taken?

With one final needless exhale, bubbles flowing out of his mouth, the life slips from him and his eyes… slip shut.

* * *

“I think he is fine now.” Someone says with a soft voice that makes his wake-up far easier than it needs to be. When he drifts back into consciousness he immediately shivers. Arms wrapping around himself, his fingers dig into his arms and his body trembles. “You must be cold.” The person says and Hanzo looks up through frosted-eyelashes to see – barely – a coat being offered to him.

Without thinking, he grabs the coat and slips it on; it is not meant for him and still it wraps around him and keeps the shivering out of his body long enough. Slow exhales form white clouds, the frost biting at him still. Cold—ever so cold, and the coat cannot seem to completely protect him.

“Who are you?” The person asks and Hanzo exhales through his mouth one final time before he looks up… and stares into the eyes of a woman in a sleeveless shirt. “I’m Mei.” She says, her hands reaching down as an offer to him and Hanzo’s teeth chatters.

With a trembling, slow and freezing hand… he reaches out and grabs at her achingly warm hands and he whimpers. “H-Hanzo.” He stutters, voice rough and scratchy… “W… where?”

“I don’t know.” Mei admits, not a single care in her voice, but her lips curl into a kind smile. Laugh lines appear on her face, her eyes hidden with the rising of her cheeks. “But I take it you want to go somewhere from here.”

With a shaky sigh, Hanzo looks down at his lap and frowns. “I… d-do not… Hfff…”

“Shush now.” Mei soothes when he struggles to speak. “I can make us tea.”

His head snaps up almost painfully at that, mouth falling open and he coughs at the rush of cold air into his throat. “Tea?” He croaks out, throat far too raw. “But-“

“I will make us tea.” Mei says, her tone silencing him near immediately and asking for nothing more but silence from him. He sits quiet, waiting, and Mei gets up and walks through the snow with barely any issues. Her feet drag through, the soft crunching of snow a soothing lullaby that Hanzo nearly falls asleep to despite the impossibility of such a notion.

A shadow passes over him as she walks away and Hanzo looks up and flinches in surprise when his eyes are met with the burning sun. The snow does not melt, does not leave, and no warmth paints his face. Yet, the sun is out and something long passes over the distant star, and Hanzo can’t bring himself to look away.

It is only when the being is gone, moving through the sky like a far too easily recognisable serpent, that he looks down to find that Mei is gone. He clutches the coat to himself, his trembling slowing down at a snail’s pace, and Hanzo is sure that he can hear the crunching of snow around him still.

Someone is walking through the snow yet every time he looks up to check he cannot find Mei anywhere. The wind blows his hair, barely, and settles, before it grows strong. Over and over, it settles and strengthens, and yet the gentle howling cannot block out the crunching of the snow.

Around him, movement occurs and no one is around.                                                                                                   

It is only when he feels gentle nudging against him does he realise that he has stared off into the distance. Still he is cold, shivering, but the chill does not settle deep into his worn bones. When he looks up, he sees a cup being offered to him and takes it without thinking; a sigh of relief escapes him when he feels the warmth of the cup transferring to his reddened fingers.

“Thank you.” He says to Mei who settles next to him on the snow; her arms are bare to the harshness of the weather and she smiles at him, unbothered, and waiting for him to finish his tea. He considers it for a while—wonders, and then bites his tongue and keeps silent before he sips the tea offered to him—

The hot taste of pomegranate settles on his tongue and Hanzo looks at the cup in surprise, before he continues to drink it down when he realises how the heat travels throughout his limbs—his veins, it feels, heating him up from inside in a way he does not expect. “Thank you.” He rasps out again, the gratitude in his voice overwhelmingly shameful.

“It is absolutely no problem; I hope you liked it.” He nods at her and Mei beams at him, before she settles and her lips settle into a flat line. “Did you see what flew over us, Hanzo?” She says lowly, a secret shared, and Hanzo stiffens up before he nods, slow and uncertain. “Do you know what it is?”

He opens his mouth to deny, but his words clog up his throat and refuse to escape. His body tenses up at the very notion and he swallows repeatedly before speaking. “Yes.” He admits. “I… I do. And I… I want to get to him.” Silence stretches on as Mei nods in understanding and Hanzo’s grip on the cup tightens. “And what of you?” He nearly snaps out. “You have not told me _why_ you are here, in the cold.”

“And do you have a reason, Hanzo?” She waves a hand dismissively at him when he tries to speak and Hanzo grits his teeth. “I do not need to know yours, and you needn’t know mine… but there is a place I want to go. Somewhere I want to reach in the end.”

Unsure of what to do with the empty cup in his hands, and unsure of how to continue the conversation further, he merely offers the cup back to Mei and she takes it and looks at it blankly. Without much consideration nor thought, she lets the cup fall deep into the snow and she stands. “Do you not have a place you need to reach?” She says despite Hanzo’s protests. “You—“ Hanzo begins, but Mei interrupts him again: “Let’s go, until you can leave.”

When he moves to offer her coat back at her she shakes her head and pushes it back at him. “Wear it,” she says, “I’m feeling quite warm! It’s actually amazing, really. But you deserve it more than I do, I think.” With that said, she turns around and starts leading the way. Her boots sink in, heavy, into the snow, and Hanzo’s own feet barely make any sound as it sinks in.

He looks up at the sky, trying to find the sun only to see that clouds have taken over the sky. A grey mist settles over them both light, welcoming almost, and Hanzo looks forward once more to make sure he is following Mei.

An oddity walks in front of him; the freckles of her shoulders provide him some distraction, especially when he notes how her skin is not pale nor reddened with the cold—unlike him, who still feels as though his nose is red and snotty.

The colour is slowly returning to the patches of pale that have popped up from before, and still he stares at the person before him that sees fine and warm in such a weather. Carefree, warm… Hanzo’s heart sinks deep into his stomach and he bites his tongue, keeps whatever meaningless comments buried deep in his soul, and follows quietly.

* * *

“Genji!” Hanzo hisses out as strong arms wrap around him, the embrace being followed by the smell of alcohol mixing in uncomfortably with expensive cologne. “Father is going to get upset, again, and the elders are going to get mad at you, _again._ ”

Despite his warnings, Genji chuckles and presses his face into Hanzo’s neck. The puffs of his breath are abnormally hot against his throat and Hanzo flushes, his fingers curling into the back of Genji’s shirt (black and expensive, lined with gold) and he tugs at his brother. “Are you drunk again?” He barks out and huffs when Genji doesn’t give him an answer.

Then, his brother sinks down onto the floor and drags Hanzo down with him and he lets out a very indignant sqawk at the drag. They fall uncomfortably, unhappily, onto the wooden floors and Hanzo buries one hand into Genji’s hair and tugs at him as harshly as he can. “Ow owowwow.” Genji repeats under his breath, his hisses of pain being felt more than heard, and Hanzo exhales.

“I’m not drunk.” Genji says, his voice clearer than it has been any other night, and Hanzo tilts his own head back. His grip on Genji’s hair loosens and his brother sighs in relief, presses a gentle kiss against his throat, and Hanzo tenses up. “Calm down,” Genji coos lowly, “no one is awake. We’re close to your room. No one’s gonna see.”

“Why are you like this?” Hanzo demands, his hands now settling on Genji’s shoulders as he tries to push him away. In response, Genji holds him closer – tighter – and he leans into him, as heavy as an anchor, and Hanzo bristles. “ _Get_ _off of me.”_

Genji backs away, finally, but not before he licks lazily against Hanzo’s neck. He trembles for only a second before he stiffens up, tense, before Genji’s searching gaze. “Then push me off.” Genji says. “Me and you’ve wrestled enough, right? You shoulda known how to throw me off by now.”

They sit there, Hanzo’s fingers twitching on Genji’s shoulders, and yet he makes no move to do anything. Genji leans close, his hands settling on each of Hanzo’s sides, and he can feel his own breath mingling with his brother’s. “Genji,” Hanzo says shakily, “cease this foolishness right now.”

“I won’t kiss you.” Genji says, softly, a secret shared between them both. He is still far too close for Hanzo’s comfort, and yet he doesn’t do anything else. He stays true to his word and keeps from pressing his lips against Hanzo’s, even as he feels Genji’s breathing on his face. “I won’t do anything to you. But I can’t even hug you?”

He swallows. “You were kissing my neck.” Hanzo says, one hand coming off of Genji so that he can trace where his brother has licked him. “You licked me here. You went far further than a hug, Genji.”

“M’sorry.” Is what he gets, his words sincerer than Hanzo expects, and Genji presses his forehead onto his shoulder. “I… I don’t have an excuse for that.” He shifts around once more, his arms wrapping around Hanzo again and pressing uncomfortably against his back where they are sandwiched against the wall. “Please, please don’t push me away.”

Hanzo shoves at Genji, far too much force being exerted under his fingers. “This is not the way to behave.” Hanzo says, even as his heart tightens painfully in his chest. “You are my _brother._ Whatever foolish fantasies you have—whatever it is that you want, I cannot give it to you. I must not.”

The glossy look Genji gives him, with his mouth gaping slightly, makes Hanzo’s stomach lurch. “I don’t know what you are doing.” Hanzo continues, even as the wetness in Genji’s eyes get worse. “You are—you are doing too much. You are stepping out of line.”

“Anija…” Genji’s mouth opens and closes a few times, words failing to follow after. “May I hug you?” He asks, bravado fully thrown away, and Hanzo swallows and then relents. He lets his hands slide down to Genji’s back and then presses him close, embracing him, and Hanzo feels his brother nuzzle into his shoulder.

“You are tipsy.” Hanzo says, gruff. “And you should rest, before father sees this, and the elders learn of your exploits once more. I am tired of covering for you.”

The fingers on his back clench tightly into the fabric of his kimono, the one he means to switch out of before Genji has stumbled in, and he holds on tight to the trembling form of his brother. “It was cold tonight, otouto.” Hanzo says. “Are you getting ill?”

“No,” Genji replies, “but I am feeling a chill. I will go now, anija. May you rest well.”

* * *

From the distance, he sees figures; shapes which vaguely resemble something human seem to be standing around someone, and Hanzo looks over to Mei to see if she has noticed it, too. They walk closer to the shapes, through whatever path that Mei is taking, and Hanzo swallows down the lump that gathers in his throat.

“Where are we going?” Hanzo asks, and whatever answer that Mei gives him is lost to him as he starts focusing on the shapes that take form… and then launch onto the small person in the circle.

His eyes widen when he catches of glimpse of who is inside their circle, inside of the vicious attacks.

Is that… a child? His heart beats far too quickly in his chest, threatening to burst out, and Hanzo nearly loses footing and falls into the snow that seems to constantly grow, never slowing in its rise. “What are you doing?!” He barks out at Mei who stops and stares at him.

“What?” She asks, her hair moving with the wind that starts to blow. Goosebumps appear on his skin, and he exhales heavily, clouds forming. He grits his teeth and looks away from Mei and back at the group circling the child. All Hanzo can do is fall and struggle, his feet barely able to catch any flooring and the snow seems to practically slip in through his pores. “Hanzo?” She calls out to him, her words going in one ear and out the other.

Struggling, trying to sift through the snow, Hanzo’s teeth chatter loudly as he tries to make it closer to the child.

Whoever they are, they raise their hands up with daggers – straight and sharp, perfect for an assassination – and Hanzo moves as frantically as he can. There is barely a cry from the child, but there is barely anything that Hanzo – himself – can hear. Green and red splay around on the snow that the child is being swallowed into, drowning in, and the shapes seem to stop when Hanzo gets closer.

“Stop!” He cries out, trying to reach out and grab at one of their elbow’s… only for them all to fade away into shadow, disappearing like puffs of smoke from an addict’s cigarette into the unforgiving air and he trips.

Someone grabs him, and it is no doubt in his mind that it is Mei that grabs the back of her own coat and yanks him into a standing position. “What were you doing?” She asks.

“They were—a child was being attacked!” Hanzo snaps out as he tries to yank himself away from Mei. “I was trying to save … I was trying to save the child!”

Silently, Mei stares at where Hanzo is standing and then looks back at him, her gaze like knives in his back. “There’s no one there, Hanzo.” Her words are gentle, as though speaking to a terrified child, and he clasps his hands tightly onto the coat and curls over ever so slightly. “The cold must be getting to you… but I am afraid I have no other way to give you warmth.”

“Where did you go to make me tea?” He asks abruptly as he turns to face her. The cold in his body is replaced with something else entirely—heavy, sick. She looks at him with wide, curious eyes. “Where did you go to make me tea!?” Hanzo nearly yells out, eyes wide in the frantic need to _know,_ and Mei shakes her head.

“I went to an old base of ours.” She says, simply, as though it is nothing far too groundbreaking. “If it was still working, I would have taken you there already… but I’m sorry to say this, but I ended up using the last bits of it power for the tea. Let’s go, Hanzo. Don’t waste time.”

Rage swirls within his chest, an ache hard to ignore, but he grits his teeth and lets it sink down and away. Whatever it is that Mei is keeping from him, he can get from her later. For now… all he can think about is the green and red that is no longer on the snow.

He follows her, hands grabbing the coat tightly and they walk through the rising snow [yet, it snows not].

His mind wanders back to the child that he swears he saw being attacked; his mind restlessly moves along, focusing far too much on things he really shouldn’t be, but he trembles in place and hugs the coat tight.

There… there—there has to have been a child there. With vibrant green surrounding them, fists beating into their face before they raise their daggers up –

Hanzo shakes his head, eyes slipping shut. He knows not why he is so focused on the child being attacked, on the way those figures launch onto the child like he has done them some grave ill. He thinks about the child, about the blood he sees spilt.

But when he looks behind himself, he sees nothing there. Not even puffs of smoke, nothing in the air to suggest that there is an attack going on. No, all he sees is white—as far as the eye can see, with white hanging heavy like fog.

There is nothing to see in the distance, no one to see either; there is no one he can even attempt to communicate with, try and get them to come along with Mei and him. He falters in his walk, only for a moment or so, before he turns back to stare at Mei’s retreating back.

Hanzo can’t help but ask… did she really see no one?

* * *

He exhales shakily, feeling ever so foolishly as regret and confusion rage in his stomach. Knots form within his belly, tight and unforgiving, making him want to vomit but he holds back for Genji’s sake. Hanzo rests his hands on Genji’s shoulders, looking around nervously even when they are securely squirreled away and no one will be able to find them.

“It’s okay, anija.” Genji soothes, his voice lower than usual. He leans in close and presses a kiss to Hanzo’s cheek, something that makes him straighten and tense up. “Thank you for doing this for me.” Genji admits, his arms slipping onto Hanzo’s back so that he can hold him close. “I don’t want anything more.”

He swallows at the warmth he feels from Genji, wrapping around him and sinking deep into his bones, almost as if there is something missing in Hanzo’s life. Panic rises, briefly, at the squeeze that Genji gives him and at the happy sigh he hears.

“I-“ Hanzo begins, though he has no clue how to continue. Genji backs away enough so that Hanzo can peer into those brown eyes, their breaths mingling from how close they are, and the frantic beating of his heart increases. “I…” he tries again, and Genji shushes him gently and places a hand on the back of Hanzo’s head so that he may rest on his shoulder.

He rocks him back and forth and something bubbles in Hanzo’s belly, low and uncomfortable, and he pushes at Genji. Despite this, his brother does not budge and presses in closer, his warmth wrapping around Hanzo inescapably.

Though there is nothing but silence, Hanzo can hear his own heartbeat far too loudly. It slams against his chest, a terrified animal attempting to escape its cage, and Hanzo breathes too quickly. Genji’s hands slip away from his back, coming up to cup Hanzo’s face, and the concern he gets is far too good for a failure like him.

“Are you okay?” Genji asks, slowly. “Did I push it? You could’ve just said no, anija. It’s okay, I wouldn’t’ve been mad.”

He shakes his head and grabs the front of Genji’s shirt desperately, his eyes slipping shut. “I can’t—I can’t separate—I don’t _get…_ ” he doesn’t continue, can’t bring himself to, and Genji moves away from him—too far away – and Hanzo swallows down the upset cry that desperately wants to escape.

“Oh Hanzo…” Genji sighs, upset, and Hanzo feels bitter disappointment rearing its ugly head. “Let’s go back, I’m sure dad’s waiting for you or something. It’s okay.”

 

When Genji moves away, the chill returns to Hanzo all over and he can only watch his younger brother get up and leave to continue on as normal.

* * *

It only takes them a few metres of travelling before Hanzo’s head snaps up in surprise at the screams he hears. He lets go of his coat and places his hands on his ears, something that Mei notices now that they are side by side. When? He doesn’t remember speeding up to walk by her side.

“What’s wrong? Cold ears?” Mei asks, her hand coming to settle on Hanzo’s back. “I used to have it too—but I don’t remember how to help-“

“No.” Hanzo gasps out, interrupting her, wondering how he is even able to hear Mei through all these _screeches._ “No—how do you—how do you not hear this?” He hisses out.

Mei looks around, cups a hand to her ear and strains… then shakes her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She responds, and it hits him how clear and even her voice is—unbothered by the cold, by the rising and falling winds.

“They’re _screeching!”_ Hanzo hisses. “How do you not hear them?! How do you—“ he presses his hands down harder onto his ears, trying to block out the screeching that seems to only get louder and louder. Even the howling of the rising wind cannot drown it out. “It is as audible as the howling of the wind! How do you not hear this!?”

“You’re the only one yelling, Hanzo.” Mei points out, though Hanzo can only focus on the writhing bodies in the snow. A dark crimson seeps in deep through the blindingly white snow, hands reaching out and they grasp desperately at air. “Did you come from somewhere where the cold isn’t that bad? You’re probably imagining things… it’s like being in a desert and seeing hallucinations.”

He opens his mouth to argue, to yell back, but he hears only a sudden and horrible _ringing_ that makes him want to cry out. It drowns out all the screeches, growing louder and louder and Hanzo slaps his hands onto his reddened ears repeatedly.

It is only when Mei places her hand on his cheek does the ringing come to an abrupt, near painful, halt. “Whatever that’s wrong with you,” Mei frowns as she speaks, “we have to keep going. If we stop now, we won’t make it anywhere.”

Even in the far distance, he hears them scream. Bodies writhe behind Mei and he whips away from her to look behind him, catching sight of gurgling mouths in the snow. “How are you fine with this?” He says, and Mei sighs.

“I don’t know what I’m not supposed to be okay with.” She snaps back in frustration and he turns to see her lips curling down in distaste.

They stare at one another, the moaning of the pained echoing in Hanzo’s head while Mei glares up at him. “You don’t hear them?” Hanzo asks, feeling more and more the fool in a Western court. “I…” he presses his face into his palms, his fingers digging into his forehead and he crumbles to his knees. “There is nothing around us.”

Mei shakes her head, her arms crossing in front of her and her gaze sympathetic. “No, no there isn’t. I wish I knew somewhere to take you.” Her words are so very certain, even when the words themselves bring nothing but a lacking confidence from Hanzo.

He looks up at her at that admission, eyes wide in surprise and lips in a flat line. “You wish you knew? What do you mean you wish you knew? Where are we going?” He asks once more, his voice rising in pitch against his will, shivering and shaky, and his whole body feels as heavy as stone.

She kneels before him, her hands resting on her own knees and she smiles sweetly at him, as though Mei hasn’t said anything to worry his already frantically beating heart. “There’s no end where I want to go.” Mei says. “Not here, at least, and I keep walking and walking until I can finally get to another place. To be very honest with you…” she sighs. “I don’t know where I want to go to. Just somewhere far away from here.”

“Then why have you dragged me with you?” Hanzo sobs out. “I need to see the dragon that flew over us—I need to meet him. I need… I need to...” His eyes droop, the heaviness growing tenfold in his body, and Hanzo groans. “I feel so very tired.” His words are garbled in his own ears, as though he is speaking underwater.

Mei places her hand on his head, a comforting gesture as she ruffles his hair. “Rest, Hanzo.” She says, apologetic, sad. “You… deserve it more than you think.”

The exhaustion grips him, wrapping around his throat like unforgiving hands, and Hanzo closes his eyes and he finds himself slipping away into a deep sleep as he falls forward into the snow, through Mei who fades away with a smile on her face as a blizzard starts, powerful and tearing her apart so that she can be with the ones she once knew.

Wind and snow whips around him, sapping the heat from his body before it stills. The snow decreases, lowers then, forming into small, itchy and many grains of sand.

The sun shines bright, burning, and Hanzo sleeps.


	2. Sand Dunes

Everything around him feels all too hot, grains digging into his skin and irritating him further than his restless sleep. Eyes fluttering open, he groans and sits up, hands moving to remove the coat that Mei has given him and he blinks rapidly in surprise when he realises his hands are grabbing onto nothing.

Looking down into the ground, it takes him a long time to realise that he is sitting on sweltering sand and there is nothing on him to add to the heat. His skin is exposed and unprotected, and Hanzo winces. He undoes his obi and wraps it around his arm as best he can, trying to protect it from the burning sun, and Hanzo falters when a long shadow passes over him once more.

Head snapping upwards, he cannot help but try and chase after the shadow that travels over him even as he attempts to tie the obi around his arm. It is a foolish endeavour, really, to try and attempt both and yet his feet move as though they have a mind of their own.

“Wait!” He yells out for a reason he can’t understand, eyes wide and trying to keep up with the dragon that passes over and far away from him. His movements falter after a while, the dragon disappearing from his sight and Hanzo looks around in hopes of finding anything - or anyone - around him.

There is nothing as far as the eye can see; nothing but mountains of sand that span across distances, glittering - almost - under the unrelenting sun that shines bright and full without clouds to hide it away. He turns around a few times, hoping to see anything -- anything at all -- and he grits his teeth.

Reaching for his back, he finds himself feeling relieved when he realises that his quiver has not once left him despite the confusion of being in a snowy world prior, and now being in a sandy nightmare.

Whatever it is, he has no one to question, no time to question, nor any way of understanding what this can all mean. It is pointless, foolish even, and all he focuses on is removing his bow from its faithful spot and he loads it with a singular arrow. It snaps with light, humming, and Hanzo shoots a sonar arrow forward in hopes of it landing into something and showing him  _ anything. _

It flies forward, soaring through the air, and lands  _ somewhere…  _ and reveals nothing. He cannot even ensure it landed, and he cannot see anything either. With a deep inhale, he places his bow back and resumes tying the obi as best he can around his arm. He unties his hair and uses the ribbon as a thinner makeshift belt around his kimono before he begins to make his trek through the hot landscape.

Sweat gathers on his skin within seconds of him moving forward, drenching him uncomfortably in it, and Hanzo’s stomach flips at the thought of having to walk like this through god knows how many hours of sand. Already he feels uncomfortable, having to remove his glove and stuff it away, and his mouth already feels dry.

But there is nothing he can do when there is no way to go but forward -- if this even is forward, he has to remind himself. His hair sticks to his forehead as he continues to walk through the sand, his surroundings having barely changed, and he almost misses the unforgiving cold of the wintery world of before.

Beggars cannot be choosers, however, and Hanzo inhales sharply and calls about his discipline so that he may keep going forward.

There is no wind, no howling noises to accompany him, and it is only the shifting of sand that keeps Hanzo company. His cheeks flush a high red, unpleasant as blood rushes upwards, and something in him seethes -- boils. Fitting given where he is; he is certain that if he is to put a pot of water out in this heat that it will boil within minutes.

At the thought of water, his mouth goes completely dry and it hits Hanzo that he has not been able to find anywhere to get a drink of water. Not even mirages accompany him, the heat stripping him of everything but his ability to hallucinate and see illusions of the mind, and he frowns.

It is terribly empty here, even though sand surrounds him. In the desert that he wanders in, Hanzo wonders where he is going.

His feet sink further and further into the sand, and he does not notice.

* * *

“Why do you never  _ listen?”  _ Hanzo hisses out as Genji storms away from Sojiro’s room. Everything about his brother’s stance  _ screams  _ angry, and yet nothing in Hanzo can bring himself to be sympathetic to Genji’s plight. “Father just wants you to help out, and all you do is spit it back in his face when he has done  _ everything  _ for you!”

Well-manicured hands bury themselves in silky hair and Genji tugs at them before he turns around and faces Hanzo with a snarl on his face, eyes wide and expression twisting horribly in ways that he has never seen before. “I’m not going to be all stuffy and  _ shit  _ like you!” Genji nearly screams. “Fucking look at you! You lock yourself up in your room all fucking day, studying, and you never have time for me!”

“My duty is important.” Hanzo says, blunt. “And if you cannot understand that, then I do not know what to tell you. And whose fault is it, anyway, that all the workload is forced onto me?” He glares at Genji; he squares his shoulders and stands up straight, having to look up into his brother’s eyes.

It is rare that Genji is standing at full height; he always slouches over when not training, always irritating Hanzo with his horrible posture. It is no surprise to him that now, of all times, is when Genji decides to straighten his back. “What? You’re trying to blame me now?” Genji sneers.

“I am  _ trying  _ to make you see that you are also responsible for my lack of time.” Hanzo spits out, his hands curling into tight fists. “The elders shove  _ your  _ portion of the work onto me, even though we are  _ expected  _ to have some sort of beneficial relationship with one another! This is how father wants us to be!”

“I don’t want to suffocate myself in responsibilities like you.” Genji says, his expression a far cry from its normal beauty-- twisting in anger, giving to him age that even Hanzo does not expect. “I’m not going to be like you. I’m not going to work for this family. No. Thank. You.”

A heavy silence hangs over them both, with Genji looking ready to punch Hanzo and he, himself, wanting to shove his brother against the wall and break his nose. “If you do not want to be part of the family.” Hanzo says slowly. “Then why are you wasting your time with alcohol and sex when you can be something better?”

Surprise paints Genji’s face. He looks into Hanzo’s eyes, his slouch coming back, and a disbelieving smile settling on his face. “Why should I?” Genji says. “If I do anything else, I’ll leave the family.”

“Is that not what you want?! Make up your mind!”

“No.” Genji says. “I want to be around you, anija, you’re the one I lo-”

He delivers a swift slap to Genji’s face, making sure to not hit him  _ too  _ hard as to cause him to bleed, and his brother’s head whips at the force behind Hanzo’s slap. “Stop being a fool.” He says with a shaky voice, body trembling. “You are my brother. You will find someone else. Do not-- do not bring this up again. We are not having this talk again.”

Despite what he believes in, Hanzo finds himself turning around and retreating from the conversation as Genji just stands there.

* * *

When his footing gives way, Hanzo finds himself in a situation where he cannot react quick enough. He knows not how long he has been walking, only that his body is screaming for rest and the heat has sapped him of whatever energy he has.

The inside of his mouth is dry, tongue uncomfortable and saliva not enough to sustain, and Hanzo’s body grows heavier and heavier until he finds himself losing his footing and sinking. Almost as if he is in quicksand, he finds himself going further and further into the sand.

Frantic, he tries to claw himself out but the fatigue settles in too heavy in his arms, keeping him from escaping proper and he closes his eyes as he accepts his fate.

His head falls further into the sand, the only thing left outside now is his obi-tied arm and Hanzo waits for his oxygen to run out… only for someone to grab at his abandoned hand and yank him up and out.

“We got you!” A strong voice says, and Hanzo feels another hand grab his other freed arm and drag him out. They yank and pull, Hanzo trying his hardest to aid them as best he can in freeing him, and he eventually finds himself sprawling across the sand. “Are you okay? Can you look up for me?”

At the request, softer now from the proclamation prior, Hanzo finds himself looking up… into deep brown eyes and a face surrounded by a deep blue hijab. “Who…?” He asks, his voice weak and scratchy, and someone else emerges from behind the woman with a flash in his hand.

“Here,” the thick-accented voice says, “a drink for ya. You look like ya need it.” The man tips his hat at Hanzo when he practically swipes the flask away, downing the cool water down as though he will die without it.

(Even though he will probably die from sinking.)

He ends up moving the flask away to wetly cough, mucus gathering with each cough and he curls his hand against his mouth until the coughing stops. The man takes the flask back, and the woman grabs him and yanks Hanzo up to stand.

“Are you feeling better now?” She asks, and Hanzo slowly nods. “Fareeha.” She says and then gestures over to the man who is moving his fingers along the brim of his hat. “This is my partner, Jesse. What are you doing  _ here?  _ Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

Hanzo frowns at her, his body burning up and he bows his head down. “What does it matter to you?” He hisses out.

She backs away then, hands coming up in apology. “What’s your name?” She asks, gentle, as though worried she’ll scare him off. “I didn’t ask, and I’m sorry for that.”

“Hey, we all forget our manners sometimes, not all’a us are gentlemen like me.” Fareeha smacks Jesse after he says that, and a grin stays on the man’s face regardless of how  _ hard  _ she may have slapped his head. “Sorry, sorry. But she’s right, partner. Who are you, and the hell you doin’ in butt fuck nowhere?”

Looking down, Hanzo can’t help but blush from embarrassment and shame… or it may be because of the heat. “Hanzo, at your service.” He introduces himself, his shame growing further when he realises how rudely he may have acted at the sight of the flask. “Forgive me for taking your flask away so abruptly.”

Jesse waves him off. “Naw, you looked like you needed it, buckaroo.” 

“Come with us.” Fareeha adds. “We have a camp nearby, and we have plenty of food to give you if you’re hungry. We have tents too, and a spare bedroll for you to sleep in.”

“Do you…” Hanzo hesitates. “Do you actually have someplace to rest?”

She looks at him oddly but nods. Pointing over to the west, Hanzo follows the direction that she is pointing at and his mouth falls open slightly when he sees their camp. “How did I not see it before?” He cries out.

“You were out here fer too long, buddy.” Jesse says, his voice low and odd. “This place messes with ya.”

Suddenly, the heat flushes from his body and Hanzo pales. Without even thinking, he surges forward and grabs at Fareeha’s shoulders, she does not flinch, and he squeezes and tries to make sure he does not fall through.

This is no hallucination, and he almost cries in relief at the realisation. “What the  _ hell  _ was that all about?!” Jesse exclaims, and Fareeha reaches over to him and places her hand on his shoulder the moment Hanzo backs away.

“It’s okay.” She says, looking Hanzo over, and something in him feels like a child chastised. “Let’s go to the camp, you look hungry.”

* * *

“Why do you come home?” Hanzo asks, sitting patiently, and Genji tenses up. He stands and flicks the switch and the light illuminates Genji for him; his clothes, a mess, torn and bite and kiss marks litter his neck, shoulders.

Through the fishnet, he can see places where Genji has been scratched at. He closes his eyes and looks away from Genji and Hanzo opens his eyes to instead stare at the work that he has been slaving over.

Half of it his, half of it Genji’s. Exhaustion sinks heavy into his bones, shadows darkening and spreading under Hanzo’s eyes, and yet he finds himself trembling with upset at how late it is that Genji has come home.

“Anija--” Genji starts, his mouth open to try and say something, anything, but his mouth opens and closes like a fish. Instead of waiting for a response, Hanzo sinks back into sitting and grabs at the pen again, hoping to get to work once more. “It’s late.” Genji says weakly, and Hanzo doesn’t look at him.

When his brother doesn’t move, doesn’t leave, he looks up and over to him. “Well? What are you waiting for? Go to your room.”

“You’re not my dad.” Genji says while frowning. “You need to sleep too, anija. You’re up too late and--”

“Hypocrite.” Hanzo spits out. “You are out late, clubbing and sleeping and-- look at you! Look at you! And  _ you  _ are telling  _ me  _ to take care of myself? At least I am tending to my duties and responsibilities! At least I am helping my family!”

Instead of arguing back, Genji just slumps his shoulders, tilts his head to the side, and stares right through Hanzo. “You’re just, digging the hole you dug for yourself way deeper. Why don’t you actually fight back, for once? Instead of blaming me for everything.”

The absolute  _ audacity  _ of his words makes Hanzo’s jaw drop, words failing him as he finds himself unable to respond in any way or form, and Genji just shrugs and walks off. “You’re taking way too much ‘responsibility’ for one guy, anija.” Is the last thing Genji says before he is gone, and Hanzo is left holding back a stream of frustration as his hands dig into his hair.

* * *

The way to their camp is quiet from Hanzo and Fareeha’s ends, and amazing chatty from Jesse’s side. He wrings his hands together constantly, spouting off stories and nonsense that Hanzo pays half-attention to, and half-not.

He keeps fiddling with his hat, reaching to his side as if to grab something but always clutches at air, and Fareeha sometimes puts a hand on Jesse’s back and rubs. He isn’t entirely sure why the man acts this way, nor does Hanzo particularly care.

“How long have you been in this desert?” Hanzo asks when they are seated on thin carpets and he is passed water -- warm, of course, but not too bad -- and cooked chicken. It strikes him, then, that he doesn’t know  _ how  _ it is that they are able to get food, but he decides it best not to question it.

The fact that they have a camp in the middle of the desert is a big question enough, he doesn’t need to add more stress onto himself.

“I reckon forever.” Jesse answers, and Fareeha looks over at him while she adjusts her hijab. “Y’see, I don’t ever remember not being here, but I think Fareeha’s been ‘ere longer than I have.”

She nods. “I found him while I was wandering around.” She says, her voice stern-- it reminds him of businessmen gathering up in meetings, with stoic faces and harsh voices. Jesse hands him some more water and Hanzo takes it gratefully, never realising how  _ parched  _ he has been this entire time.

“Every step here makes you sink.” Fareeha says after a while, her hands on her knees as she sits cross-legged and Jesse shifts to make room for his legs. “Don’t spread too much.”

“The sinking here… has it happened for you two, always?” Hanzo asks, ignoring the grumbling that Jesse makes as he tries and sits cross-legged like Fareeha. “I did not even realise that I was sinking further into the grains.”

She shakes her head and Jesse looks away, ashamed. “I have never sunk into the desert... not completely.” Fareeha says, and Jesse sighs. “When I first found Jesse, he was sinking too. If anything, I was sure he was about to leave when I pulled him out. He wasn’t moving, and I suppose it’s a miracle he’s even here right now.”

“This place weighs on ya.” Jesse admits, shifting. “Never stops, always keeps getting heavier and heavier, y’know? Or it may just be that it’s hot and I just have no clue how to walk in the desert.”

“You’re as heavy as a boulder.” Fareeha points out. Jesse snorts. “But there is something about this place that never lets go… but I’m not entirely sure what it is anymore, I haven’t been able to remember for a very long time.”

They eat in silence after that, Jesse getting up to get them more to eat, and Hanzo blushes from the shame of how much he is eating. He feels as though he is impeding on their hospitality, yet both Fareeha and Jesse don’t seem to care. 

He shifts constantly, staring at the unmoving sands and he rests his hand atop the grains. It only takes a minute before his hand and fingers slip into the sand, sinking deeper, and Hanzo has to yank his hand out immediately when it feels as though something has grabbed him.

“You prob’ly shouldn’t do that.” Jesse points out. “Ya seem like ya got too much on ya, you never know where the sand’s gonna take ya.”

At that proclamation, his head snaps over to Jesse with wide eyes. “Take me?” He echoes. “What is it that you haven’t told me?” Jesse shrugs. “That is  _ not  _ an answer.”

“Well,” Fareeha says, “we really don’t know.” She shrugs as well. “Is there a reason why you’re asking? Otherwise, it’s just walking and settling for as far as the eye can see.”

“Is that all you have ever done? Walk around?” He finds himself standing up on the carpet, turning around to see nothing but the endless expanse of sand dunes and harsh, golden grains illuminated by the sun. “Where do you go? And when do you stop? Do you  _ ever  _ stop?”

His hands spread out to indicate to the area around them, a frown on Hanzo’s face. “Endlessly wandering… do you have a goal to reach?” They both shake their heads. “And so you just… go? You go because there is nothing much else to do? Is  _ this  _ it? Constantly moving, when it is best to stop?”

“Yes.” Fareeha answers. “Do you need to be somewhere, Hanzo?” His silence is answer enough for her. She stands then, facing Hanzo with a blank expression that makes his stomach flip. “Then, I suppose it can’t be helped.”

Before Hanzo can even react, Fareeha grabs at his shoulders and throws him towards the sands. Yelling indignantly, he tries to catch himself before he falls but they both descend upon him-- Fareeha to his side, and Jesse behind him. They press him down deep into the sand, and Hanzo can’t even scream as he sinks further and further into the sand.

His body is turned around, facing upwards toward them like a burial, and he finds himself taken aback by the upset on their faces. “I hope you’re safe wherever you go.” Fareeha says.

“Take care, partner.” Jesse says, and they back away to let him sink away, far away, and they both stand to pack up their belongings so that they move elsewhere.

To remain static is worse to them than to not be nomadic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am genuinely not positive about this chapter, but at least it's done.


	3. Mauve

For a long while, he sees darkness. Hidden away somewhere that he cannot understand, blackness covers his vision even though his eyes are wide open. His hands reach out, spreading against something, and he pushes and pushes until it pops off.

It takes him time to crawl out of whatever it is that he is inside, and he cannot help but cough up sand and sputter at the tastes of it all.

Beneath him is violet dirt.

A few seconds pass; a minute, then, before realisation dawns onto Hanzo that the ground is so very purple. He looks up and is immediately greeted with splashes of purple, endless and spanning, and he gapes in surprise.

Flowers as tall as trees twist and turn around, varying shades of lavender and such, and Hanzo stands shakily on his feet. His clothes are still a mess from before and it takes him some time to fix himself up so that he is presentable.

There is no sweat on his body and filth is absent yet he feels the need to scrub his skin a raw red. He tries not to stare too much at the dirt at his feet, nor to be disturbed - heavily - by the abnormally colored trees, bushes. 

Everything around him is a stunning purple, almost blending together seamlessly if Hanzo is to not pay attention.  _ ‘Who am I to meet this time?’  _ he dreads as he takes his first step forward, leaves crunching underneath his foot, and he exhales heavily through his mouth.

Exhaustion settles deep in his bone, yet he doesn’t want to sleep. 

The world around him almost feels like a child’s fantasy; the first real unreal area that he has ever been in, despite the impossibilities of the desert and snow areas prior. It is this world that, oddly, brings the smallest of smiles to his face as he thinks of children running along this different world.

With flowers as tall as trees, and trees that bend and turn. A pleasant aroma hangs in the air, sweet and welcoming, and Hanzo swallows down the lump that has gathered in his throat.

A child’s fantasy; a dream that will fade in time, just like everything else in the world, but a dream of sweets nonetheless.

With that thought set in mind, he makes to move ahead and see if there is another way to go forward only to be stopped by the clearing of someone’s throat. “Ya know,” the voice says, “it’s not nice to ignore someone who’s been here all along.”

He whips around in surprise, eyes frantically searching around for the source of the voice. “Hey, I’m not gonna reveal myself to you after you oh so rudely ignored me.” The voice says again. “... though, maybe I could use a little less camo-outfit, eh?”

Hanzo reaches behind him, instinct, hoping to grab at his arrow and surprise hits him when his fingers clasp around something familiar. He pulls it out, a glowing azure arrow, and brings it to a bow he does not remember holding.

Acting purely on instinct, he shoots the arrow out and it soars - flying - towards lavender bark and sinking in deep. It radiates the very same azure it glows, like an aura, and a person dressed in purple is revealed to him then. She tsks, irritation crossing her face, and Hanzo stares at her in confusion.

She lands before him while he is putting his bow back onto his person, a loud noise erupting from her that is far too mechanical for Hanzo’s taste, and she stands up before him - proud and boisterous. “Name’s Sombra. Who’re you? You look archaic as hell.”

Apparently, it is now his turn to feel irritation. “At least I do not look as generic as my surroundings.” They glare at one another, a needless contest, that neither win as they both look away. His arms cross before him, teeth bared as he, too, tsks at her. 

“... so you gonna introduce yourself to me, or no?” Sombra asks, her hands settling on her hips and her eyebrow twitches. “I didn’t come here all the way just to find an asshole like  _ you. _ ”

“What?” Hanzo scoffs. “Do you not have others to pester? Are you  _ alone? _ ”

“What gave  _ that  _ away?” Another staring contest; as pointless as the first, and as much of a draw as the first too. He continues to glare across him while Sombra waits, tapping her foot on the ground, and Hanzo is almost tempted to turn around and  _ leave. _

But he has a feeling that if Sombra has been alone the entire time and wandering, then what will become of him? “Hanzo is my name.” He practically spits out. “And do not think this as a sign of acceptance from me to you.”

“Don’t care.” Sombra says. “I only care ‘bout figurin’ this place out. You just got here, right?” He looks at her oddly. “C’moooon, don’t tell me you find this shit normal, right? Where’s the green?! The small flowers? The  _ animals?  _ There aren’t any animals here as far as my eye can see!” She stops and turns, pointing at his arrow with a raised eyebrow. “But I think you have the tools I need to see this place for what it  _ really  _ is.”

Instead of giving her a reply, Hanzo turns her back to her despite Sombra’s cry of protest and moves to just completely get away from her. Yet, despite this, something lands in front of him and Sombra appears before him and places her hands on his shoulders. “Seriously, you can’t be thinking of just  _ leaving  _ me?”

Something in his heart tightens.

“Don’t turn your back on me  _ [again. I just want to be with you.] _ I… ugh, I hate even saying this. I need  _ [to know you like me too]  _ your help.”

His mouth falls open a bit, eyes wide, and Sombra stares through him. “What are you trying to do?” Hanzo asks, slowly, and Sombra brightens up with a shit-eating grin. 

She pushes away from him then, her hands shoving him back before they are then gesticulating wildly, and Hanzo watches her hand movements blankly. “This place? Ain’t right. I’ve been here for… damn, I don’t even remember. Legit don’t remember, you know? I swear someone put me here  _ [because I was starting to get annoying, really now… why do you…] _ and I ain’t happy about being here.” She turns away from him, her arms spreading out. “Nothin’ makes sense here. The trees, the  _ sky.  _ It ain’t blue! It’s just… it’s just a pastel purple! Isn’t that just…  _ [not right]? _ ”

It’s hard to pay attention to her, yet he manages to soldier on and listen to her words. Despite how heavy her stance and body language is with confidence, her words are that of an unsure stranger lost in the woods, map torn apart.

“What are you hoping to do?” Hanzo says. “Do you think yourself a philosopher? Hoping to find out how the world works through tricks and deceits? Leave it be. This is how it should be.”

“ _ [Just because this is how it should be, doesn’t make it right.]  _ I can’t just… sit around! And accept this! I don’t even know how I got here, and you’re telling  _ me  _ to just… accept it?  _ [I can’t do that,]  _ Hanzo. You’re gonna help me, because I can get you  _ out. _ ”

He arches an eyebrow. “If you have been wandering here, lost, then how are you to help me?” Hanzo shakes his head. “You are foolish. We are both stuck here, and I cannot help you and you cannot help me.”

Sombra lets out a long, drawn out groan. She throws her hands up as she turns on her heel to face him, a faux-annoyed look on her face. “You must be fun at parties. I thought someone liked you would’a liked debates; you look like… a lawyer kinda guy. Aren’t ya a lawyer?  _ [You sure seem to like to follow the rules a lot.]  _ See, here’s the thing.” Something lands at Hanzo’s feet, and he nearly falls backwards from how close Sombra abruptly is to him.

To further invade his privacy, she grins and taps his nose with her finger. “Boop. Sorry, you have a very nice nose, I couldn’t help myself.” She shrugs. “See, there’s a problem here. I can’t leave this place until I figure it out. I just can’t. You,  _ bucko,  _ have no problem runnin’ away from here.”

“Then why can’t I just leave?”

“Because you need  _ me  _ to do it for you. Man, what are you, dense?” Her fingers wrap around his wrist then and she tugs at him and Hanzo digs his heels as deep into the dirt as he can. “You’re gonna help me. Do you wanna be stuck in purpland forever, or do you actually wanna go someplace? I know you’re looking for someone.”

His eyes cast downwards. “If you don’t help me,” Sombra says, threateningly, “you’re stuck here forever, and I don’t care much ‘bout you either, so… you choose. Either stay here forever, or follow along with me.”

The answer is clear. He doesn’t even have to speak before she nods, satisfied, and a smug smile spreads on her face. After that, he lets himself be dragged along with Sombra. The area around them starts to blend in soon after, his way guided by Sombra, and a part of him feels relief at his choice to follow her instead of just… being lost.

As they walk, it doesn’t take Hanzo much time to realise that there truly are no animals around. His eyes roam and look across the area, and all he sees is flora and nothing more. The trees seem to bear no fruit, at least none that he can see…

Everything being the same shade of colour truly does make this place a confusing mess, something that makes nervousness gather in his heart and squeeze it far too tight. They pass through bushes and large leaves, all of which Hanzo is the only contrast too -- Sombra blends in seamlessly with her purple clothing, almost as if she is trying to hide.

A part of him doesn’t know. Another part of him finds this all foolish. What is she hoping to find? The secrets of the universe? Whatever is hidden away that makes this place be what it is will never be found by them.

“You see all this?” Sombra says, finally having let go of his wrist so that Hanzo may follow of his own volition. “Nothing’s right. Nothing’s  _ livin’  _ here. Everything’s wrong. It’s like a messed up prison masquerading as a forest.”

He raises an eyebrow. “What makes you think that this is a prison?” Hanzo says, blankly. “Perhaps the leaves are nutritious to animals that you and I cannot see. I could not see you at first, could I?”

“Do you really think that there’re animals  _ here  _ that are invisible and silent? This ain’t a world for imaginary friends.” She speaks as if she’s talking about a conspiracy, and Hanzo shakes his head. “ _ [I didn’t want to be stuck doing this, I just wanna get outta here and do whatever I want. But I’m stuck here, havin’ to ask shit about everything.]” _

While Sombra walks ahead, a hand on one of the trees, Hanzo looks up ahead at one of the flowers -- a violet sunflower, it seems -- that looms over him. “Maybe some things are just not meant to be questioned. Maybe some things are meant to be as is.”

“I’m not fine with that.” The way her hand curls on the bark as Hanzo glances back at her, briefly, makes him sigh.

“If this is the way the world is,” Hanzo says, “then it is not in my best interest to question  _ why  _ it is that it is purple.”

She looks over her shoulder to glance at him. “So you’re fine with this? What’s the point in discovery then?”

“Some things are meant to be discovered.” Is his reply. “We should keep moving forward. I do not want to stay still with you for more than a second.” Hanzo says, words only a  _ bit  _ seething, promise. There is no bitterness in his voice, none at all.

She doesn’t lead the way, however, even as he walks past her and stops. He waits patiently for Sombra to do something, but when she does not move and Hanzo’s frustration grows, he snaps. “Why do you even want my help if you are standing there, staring at me like an absolute moron!?”

Unsurprisingly, Sombra ignores him, apparently far too invested in her own world. “If the world was to suddenly, say, open up to you…” Sombra says. “And say… pff, ‘I can show you the world’, would you just… turn your back on it? Like, would you just not even take a peek?”

He tsks. “Why must I?” He asks. “Whatever that is in there is not for me to know. If this is the world - purple and lifeless… then this is the world. I have no desire to look into it any further.”

“Dick.” Sombra spits out.

“Perhaps you belong here.” Hanzo says maliciously. “You are just as purple as the world around you.”

She grinds her teeth together and Hanzo has to duck a punch sent his way. It slams into the large flower behind him and Sombra just glares at him. 

There is silence.

“You know… I may be  _ royal…”  _ She reaches into her pocket to bring some sort of device out. She walks up to Hanzo and places the device on his chest, and familiar brown eyes look into Hanzo’s. 

  
  
  


“But at least I don’t have my head up my own ass like you do, anija.” Genji’s voice echoes in the room, his hands on Hanzo’s chest as he fastens the device. “I’ll keep questioning, and I’ll do what you can’t do. Goodbye, anija.”

He leans forward then, as if to kiss Hanzo, only to dissipate into smoke as the device works its magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blank canvas.  
> Paint it mauve.


	4. Sundew

There is music playing nearby; upbeat and yet oddly calming, something that sets him at ease immediately. He hears it loud and clear despite the rushing water in front of him, and Hanzo cannot help but wonder where he is right now. He stares forward while he kneels in a damp cave, fingers slipping slightly on the rocks beneath him.

No one else is around, but there is certainly someone inside. He stands up on shaky legs, stares at the horribly rushing waterfall that he is certain should drown out the music… Yet the music plays on, an abnormality that at this point really should not bother him.

His heart beats far too quickly, out of rhythm with the beat of the song that is being played, and Hanzo stares on ahead. He looks behind him and sees nothing, no way to get down where it is that he is. Endless green greets his eyes at first; trees with fruit or flowers, all overwhelming pink and red in contrast to the green. His hair flaps aggressively in the air, irritating his eyes, as the wind picks up and then eventually dies down so that he may move his hair aside.

This is the first area he has been to that gives him a sickening discomfort that he cannot merely push away. Birds chirp over him and when he looks over he ends up immediately looking away because of the sparrows.

If there is no where else for him to go, then it is the cave that he will venture forth to. Looking forward, he presses his hands together and pushes them, horizontally facing, forward and through the water.

The waterfall parts like curtains as he spreads his palms apart from one another and makes his way in, and it closes behind him like beads slapping against one another. The roaring of the water stops and it is nothing else but his own heartbeat and the music that creates an uneven beat. He walks slowly, hand moving along the dry, rocky surface of the cave. Despite the jagged look, it is horribly smooth as his hand glides along.

He comes to a sudden halt as a scratching, grating sensation runs along his body and tries to tear at his clothes to remove the suddenly stifling attire--

\-- and it takes him but seconds to realise that he is in his suffocating and old training outfit. Bright orange stares back at him, his tattoo hidden from sight, and Hanzo’s hands immediately pat at his face.

His face is clear. His fingers running over his long, smooth hair, and it takes him but a few seconds to realise that his quiver, bow and arrows have all but faded from him. It slams into him like a boulder, then, that he is no longer himself -- an aged man, exhausted for years and sickened from alcohol and self-hatred -- but a shadow of himself and he crumbles to his knees.

Still, Hanzo pats at his face; he hopes against all hope that this is just a horrible illusion. But it cannot be… he is younger, again, and he looks up and stares up into the cave roof.

A mirror stares back at him, reflecting to him his younger self-- his face clean, his eyes wide and full of proud youth. There is nothing of the dying man staring back at him, and only the everliving, preserved youth.

“Anija,” a soft voice says, almost too shy, and Hanzo nearly yells, “aren’t you gonna come to a food date with me?” He turns his head to the right to stare up at the familiar face and at a strained, scared smile. “I made the anpan better this time. You gonna come with me or not?”

A part of him wants to yell no. This is not one of their little breaks [“They’re like little food dates, anija,” Genji says, “and I know. I know. You’re my brother. But lemme have this, okay?”] and they are not back at the Shimada estate. This is not after training, where they are both hungry and Genji is going to steal them away for some anpan that he has bought.

Genji has never once made anpan. “There’s also some anpan, anija. C’mon, eat with me? You look crazy hungry, if you ask me.”

A part of him wants to say no.

But as though running against his will, Hanzo lets out an irritated sigh instead and shakes his head. “Fine, but do not let the elders or our trainers see us. I do not want an earful just because you are a greedy child.”

“Anija!” Genji gasps, the strain from his face finally gone, and he places his hand on his chest while he feigns hurt. “I would never! C’mon. C’mooooon. I found a better hidin’ spot this time so you can stop pissing yourself in worry.”

“Crude!” Hanzo barks out.

This is a far too familiar scene, but Genji has never--

He is helped up then, forcefully made to stand, and Genji’s glaring crimson eyes stare through him. The grip on his hands become far too tight and Genji frowns at him. “Why couldn’t us laughing together be easier?” A digitised voice asks him, crackling, and Hanzo rips his hands away from Genji as though he has been burnt.

His brother smiles once more, the red of his eyes still staring through his existence - as though he is made of glass - before Genji turns on his heel and walks away. He follows after, quiet as Genji is, and the rocky surface of the wall starts to slowly warp. It is no surprise to him that his brother fades away as the environment changes.

Yellows and greens catch his eye; a pretty wallpaper of a very light lime green with yellow daffodils and the music that he has been ignoring earlier is now clearly heard. There are two persons here, sitting at a table and bobbing their heads to the rhythm. When the catch sight of him, the blonde immediately looks down with a guilt-ridden expression and the brunet reaches out to her and rubs her back gently.

“Yo.” The brunet says. “You want some food, man? You look like you had a super rough time.” His voice is ever so welcoming and Hanzo is about to respond, to decline, until his stomach growls and pinches uncomfortably so. He curls over, gasping at the sudden and sharp pain, and he trembles in place as the pain only grows worse.

A chair scratches on the ground and the click-clacks of heels grow closer to him. Something golden flows around him and he chokes. “You are so very sick.” The blonde says. “Please, you must eat. We have castella, and some green tea mochi if you’d like. We’ve no proper food, I’m afraid, but we do have dessert.”

“We got tea too!” The other one calls out, the joy in his voice lifting the justified worry from Hanzo’s chest. “Uhhh… not green tea, but it’s still good. You like raspberry?”

“This is wrong.” Hanzo gasps out, though he still lets himself be helped up by the woman when she reaches out to him. “I… who are you? Why am I here? I don’t--”

“You already know us.” She says, very softly, and he stares into her eyes. The guilty look is back once more, but it quickly fades into away into a disarming smile. “I am a doctor, if it helps you remember.”

For whatever reason, his lips move once more without his permission. “Dr. Ziegler.” he says, and Angela shakes her head while still smiling.

“Why are you here?” Hanzo asks, his voice calmer now-- respect to one’s doctors will always come before all else, and he cannot bring it in himself to yell at one deserving high respects. He finds his words spilling from his mouth when Angela shrugs, as though a filter has been turned off. “I need-- My brother… I was-- have you seen him? No… not-- there is a dragon. I…”

“Whoa whoa there.” Lúcio calls out, breaking him out of his reverie, and Hanzo-

When has he met these two?

Swallowing the lump down, he looks over at the table with the few sweets, with the music still playing over them [now that he thinks about it, it feels so very familiar; Lúcio’s music has healing properties, does it not…?] and finds himself thinking about how much he rather take a break from all his trai-

“C’mon, we met this anpan just for you.” Lúcio says, and Hanzo takes a seat despite the uneasiness of it all. The tension melts from his shoulders near immediately, his hair falling around him in curtains as he takes the plate that Angela gives to him and brings the anpan to his mouth. He takes small bites, not wanting to appear uncultured to the doctor and the musician. “Just chill a bit, a’right? You look like a wooden plank.”

“It’s not as if he can help it.” Angela says she takes her seat as well. “He has been neglecting his health for far too long. Have you been drinking, again, Hanzo?”

He can’t bring himself to answer. “Well,” Lúcio says, “let’s not talk about that right now. I mean, the guy’s eatin’, no need to interrogate ‘im. C’mon, man, lose yourself to the rhythm and have a good time.”

Angela folds her hands on her lap, staring at her own empty plate. “Cheesecake would have been lovely.” She says. Hanzo doesn’t do anything but nibble on his anpan, trying to ignore the comforting and familiar feeling it gives him. “But I do adore the mochi. I did not quite expect that.”

Someone else reaches over and breaks off a part of his anpan, causing him to look up and stare into red eyes once more. “Sorry brother,” Genji says with a cheeky grin, “I couldn’t help myself. I already ate mine!”

“How have your concerts been going?” Angela asks, and Lúcio grins her way. “I haven’t been go to them, lately, I’ve been called away on too many jobs.”

He shakes his head, pets Angela’s shoulder, and says, “hey, it’s fine. We all got our obligations, and you couldn’t help yours. They’ve been doin’ great! My fans are awesome as ever. I got to meet Efi, you know, the child genius? She’s great. I gave her some free tickets.”

“Bless her.” Angela says. Hanzo has never felt more unwelcome than he does now. Genji leans close and puts his head on Hanzo’s shoulder and he tenses up once more, the anpan falling from his hands.

Genji peeks up at him. “We should go to one of his concerts when they come to Japan.” Genji says, monotone and dull. “But I don’t think the family will let us, will they?”

“Stop it.” Hanzo says, and Lúcio and Angela look at him curiously. He inhales sharply and averts his gaze. “I-- I’m sorry. I did not mean to interrupt your conversation, Dr. Ziegler, Lúcio. Forgive me.”

Lúcio waves it off, not looking bothered in the slightest. Angela, however, looks stricken as she stares next to Hanzo. Genji exhales out on Hanzo’s shoulder, his breath far too hot, and he trembles. “It’s cool.” Lúcio says, and Angela nods as well.

“I can’t eat.” Hanzo blurts out. Angela opens her mouth as though to say something, but Lúcio merely takes his plate away and sets it aside.

To clean up later, he supposes. He feels as though he has wasted his host’s hospitality, especially when he is clearly uninvited. The weight from his shoulder lifts. For a while, the world fades around him when he looks back into his younger brother’s brown eyes.

“Hanzo,” Genji says softly, so soft that he almost has to strain to hear him, “whenever we go on our little food dates-- I know. I know. Our… our training breaks. Every… whenever we go on them, I wish. I wish… I wish I could kiss you.”

He exhales, reliving a familiar memory. “We’re brothers.” Hanzo says. “I have my duties to the clan, even if we are to ignore that. I am busy. I am not in love with you. I am your brother. You are of my kin. You... “ he swallows. “You were never there--”

“I wish we weren’t related.” And the memory of Genji leans close and presses his cold lips against Hanzo’s dry ones, an unappealing kiss, and just like that his younger brother is fleeing from him.

Someone walks over to him, places a hand on his shoulder, and squeezes. “You need to stop thinkin’, man. I tried to help you for the next place.” Lúcio says; not disappointed, not angry. Merely sad. “You gotta go now. I know it hurts… you got a place to be. Can’t stay ‘round anymore.”

“Through there.” Angela notes, her voice cracking. She points at a door-- one of the more normal ways that Hanzo has had so far. “Then you can see Genji once more… when you see him, please tell him I--” she silences herself. “Be safe, Hanzo.”

Mechanically, he stands up and makes for the door. Abandoned once more by Genji, he steps through the door to a new world that awaits him.

The world behind him shatters the moment he closes the door, and he misses it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I listened to a lot of "Of Monsters and Men" while writing this.


	5. Brethren

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no access to social media but I have access to AO3 despite it all. Thanks internet censorship.

The next world he steps into… is an overwhelmingly black abyss. He hears someone sobbing, or so he thinks it is sobs; it echoes in the darkness of wherever he is, and yet Hanzo can see everything so clearly. He stares off into the distance, and looks over to his left. To his right. He stares and stares through the emptiness that surrounds him.

His brow furrows and he takes one step forward. The ground ripples like the surface of a river underneath him, yet the ground does not feel wet or slippery underneath his feet. He takes a few steps forward, eyes squinting and attempting to take in everything around him.

But there is nothing around him at all. His skin feels itchy, uncomfortable, and Hanzo walks slowly forward. Cautious, worried, he reaches out and tries to feel and figure out if there are any walls that surround him.

His hand grasps at air, giving him a most unsettling answer. Frowning, he continues on his path to try and figure out where the sobbing is coming from. It distorts, an inhumanly human sound, and cuts out every once in a while; the attempt to figure out where it comes from leads him in walking in circles.

Or, so he thinks.

A few minutes pass before the sobs are nearer and louder and a quiet victory bursts in his chance at the realisation that he is getting closer. As he takes one step further, the water ripples underneath him and reveals a startling gold.

The further he goes, the more gold is revealed to him. As warm as the sun it embraces him, tugs him closer, and the feeling of  _ home  _ tugs him closer until he finds himself staring at the gentlest of lights.

It is a gentle, welcoming hue that surrounds the… the omnic who seems to be meditating in the middle of it all. From the omnic in the middle he hears sobbing and his mind is alight with surprise and confusion; questions fill his head, bouncing about annoyingly, and he cautiously approaches the omnic.

Still, he sobs. The warmth of the golden light caresses his skin and gives him the illumination he finally needs and Hanzo kneels next to the omnic in a seiza. With his hands atop his thighs, he closes his eyes and joins the distressed omnic in meditation and prayer.

His mind does not quiet for a moment to let him meditate and mull over his thoughts; thoughts rush past him, memories of what has happened taunt him. His brother’s murder, all that he has done for the clan… throwing it all away so that he may flee from the overwhelming guilt.

How long has it been? He does not know, and he knows not why the spirits torture him in such a way. Forcing him to meet strangers, to confront memories of his brother’s advances.

But he has--

… It is best to leave that thought alone. With a rigid back and an unquiet mind, Hanzo finally lets his eyes flutter open and he looks over to the omnic who levitates and holds his head bowed down.

“Omnic,” Hanzo says, his word far harsher than he intends it, “why do you cry? Rather, how can an omnic cry?” He asks, and the omnic’s sobbing stops. There is a silence that stretches far too long from the omnic’s side, distracting and uncomfortable, and Hanzo swallows the lump that gathers in his throat.

Has he made a mistake? Should--

“I cry for my fallen brethren.” The omnic says, his voice ever so soothing. He stops, pauses and waits; his lullaby of a voice is forgotten by Hanzo only or a second, before the omnic starts speaking again. “I am Zenyatta. A monk… a nomadic one, you could say. Though I wish not to still be functioning.”

Hanzo’s brows furrow and he licks his dry lips. “Do you wish for death, omnic?” Hanzo asks and an odd sort of solidarity forms when he sees the omnic’s slight nod. “And…” he hesitates. “Why do you wish for it so, omnic?”

“... around me, surrounding me, are those who were once my friends.” Zenyatta says, his hands reaching out and the light spreads… and beneath them both is a graveyard of omnic parts. Crushed, destroyed… he does not expect such a sight to feel so gruesome to stare at. Oil-stained fingers and arms spread underneath him, crushed heads and dulled lights…

They blend together; once living and sentient. Now, junk. “Imagine it if you will, my friend.” Zenyatta says, continuing his story even as his voice trembles so similarly to that of a human’s. “A man dressed in black, a gruesome mask upon his face of an eternally grinning figure. Horns that stretch from it, small… yet so very memorable.”

In his mind’s eyes, Hanzo envisions an oni and his eyes widen. “He came to us, an eternal grin upon his face and I-- I recognised him.” If the omnic has eyes, Hanzo is sure that they will be slipping shut at the memory.

Though all he sees is unmoving metal, he can envision the movement of facial muscles. The surprise upon the sight of the oni that greets Zenyatta immediately replaces that image; he sees that instead. Sees, so clearly in view as though he is a bystander, the oni approach the omnic with its lumbering form.

A blade is by its side. An unwelcoming sight as he stands before omnic monks. He imagines them to be a peaceful folk; easy to approach no matter what you have done. Who you are.

How will his life have been if he had met them, he wonders. “Who was he?” Hanzo asks, soft, when the omnic seems reluctant to continue. “Forgive me for bringing up memories unwanted, but…”

“You are curious as to what can make a machine cry.” Zenyatta finishes for him. “I suppose you could say that the heart of a man beats in my chest. I am machine, I am as much a creation as many of the other things that humans have made…” he says, but he raises his head up high and looks up.

Hanzo follows his gaze. There is nothing above him, and he wonders if the monk sees anything. “Beneath me, around us all… my friends lay, dead. They are the result of my failure, of my inability to prove to my student the one fact that he desperately chased after for years.”

“Your student?” Hanzo says, and he cannot ask anymore when Zenyatta shakes his head. “Whatever that has happened, I doubt that it is truly your fault.” Hanzo continues; nothing about his words are comforting or sympathetic. Unintentionally so that his voice is more stern, factual, but Zenyatta says nothing.

Shows nothing. An expressionless face with only dim lights to signify emotions. Zenyatta looks at him, and almost-- almost, Hanzo swears, he sees anguish on the face for a moment, but only for a moment.

“My student… he came to me.” Zenyatta says, tone so gentle that it almost a lullaby to Hanzo’s ears. When is the last time that he has heard a calm voice? All he remembers is the sternness of his father’s voice, and the strict tone of his own voice as he snaps at Genji for being gone. Again. Leaving all the work to him.  _ Again.  _ “He came to me, seeking peace within himself.

“He came to me a broken man. I tried to be his mentor, to help him. But with the state he was in, it never worked. He returned to me once more, a startling grin on his face.”

An oni instead of a man, Hanzo thinks.

“It was not his face any longer. Not to us, not to my brothers and I. And to I, and to I, he turned away and raised his blade.”

Like an executor, the oni raises his blade-- with both hands, Hanzo guesses. A large blade in his hands, almost far too impractical and useful for anything other than a ceremony. But an oni is… is an inexplicable thing.

They are murderers.

“One by one… they fell.” Zenyatta says, a quiet acceptance in his voice. “His blade tore them apart. What he could not slice, he broke in. He had… grown violent. A true demon amidst us… and none of us knew how to deal with him.”

An ogre gone loose; taking his fill of victims, claws digging in deep and ripping away lives that Hanzo has never once thought capable. But now, as he sits above a graveyard of omnics… he finds himself coming to a quiet realisation.

They have had life prior. Now it is gone, and their life sinks out of them into a pool of deep, black oil. 

“And I was the last one.” He says. It is a simple story, with no detail at all. Yet Hanzo knows not why he still listens to him. In any other circumstance, Hanzo is sure, that he will never have bothered to listen to the stories of such a whimsical omnic.

He has far more important things to do. But now, he has nothing. He is stuck in a void with nothing but dimming gold and a grave of omnics underneath him. What else does he have to do? Nothing to do but think and wander.

“I begged him to kill me.” Zenyatta admits, somber. “But he did not. Instead, he simply turned to look at me… before he turned around and left me alone, surrounded by my brothers. I am now stuck here, living, incapable of taking of my own life. I cannot join my brothers in the iris.”

“And what kind of student could do this?” Hanzo asks. “And why would he?”

Zenyatta turns to him then, his eyes staring through and into Hanzo. He is being laid bare before the omnic, his very soul being revealed and Hanzo stiffens up. “Because of you.” Zenyatta says.

Instead of anger at the accusation, Hanzo stays quiet. Instead of loud outrage, Hanzo stays quiet. Instead of vocal disbelief, Hanzo stays quiet. He stares back into the slits that make up Zenyatta’s eyes, and the omnic looks away.

“The dragon that came to me for peace, later returned to slaughter my brethren and leave me alive. I weep, for my brothers bleed… and I, do not.”

Eventually, Hanzo stands up and bows before Zenyatta. He watches as Zenyatta lowers down and no longer levitates and witnesses as rust grows on the omnic’s body like twisted vines. He fixes up his equipment and leaves the dim glow behind, arms wrapping around himself to steel himself against the upcoming cold, and he leaves the corpse of Zenyatta behind.

There is one final area he must go to, and he can see the end in sight.

**Author's Note:**

> [You can find me on tumblr here.](http://www.starrelia.tumblr.com)


End file.
